


Let No Man Tear Asunder

by BonesOfBirdWings



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 10:21:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3847309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BonesOfBirdWings/pseuds/BonesOfBirdWings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter knows better than anyone that death is only the beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let No Man Tear Asunder

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by [this song.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KnCKCtz4OQw)

“Derek,” Peter snarled, his claws fully unsheathed and his eyes bright amber, “move out of the way!”

“Peter, no,” Derek replied, physically blocking Peter’s path. “You don’t want to see-“

“The hell I don’t!” cried Peter, swiping at him with sharp claws. Derek winced as they scored bloody lines down his chest, but didn’t move. “That’s my mate there, of course I-“

“Peter, there’s nothing you can –“

“Move out of the way,” Peter repeated dangerously. “Move out of the way, Derek, or I swear –“

“He’s already dead!” Derek shouted. “Peter, he’s already dead, there’s nothing –“

“No!” Peter cried, redoubling his efforts to get past Derek. “He’s not, he’s not, Derek, let me see him!”

“Peter, he’s –“

“NO,” Peter roared, “HE’S NOT!” He darted to the side, and as Derek moved to block him, stuck out a foot, tripping his nephew. With the obstacle removed, he sprinted to Stiles’ side, pushing Scott and Isaac away from him.

“Stiles,” Peter said, gently levering the prone body into his lap, “darling, wake up.” He stroked back the boy’s hair. “You’ve got a class to teach in two hours – you can’t just sleep the day away.”

Scott cautiously moved towards the pair. “Peter,” he said softly, and Peter noticed that there were tears gleaming in the corners of his eyes. “Peter, he’s not going to wake up.”

Peter scoffed. “Of course he will, Scott,” he replied, “he’s just a heavy sleeper. It takes him forever-“

“Peter,” Isaac gently interrupted. “Listen to his heartbeat.”

“What?” Peter asked. “That’s absurd, why should I?”

“You’re his mate, Uncle Peter,” said Derek. “Listen to his heartbeat.”

“He’s not dead,” Peter repeated with a snarl. “He’s not dead, he’s not dead, he’s not!” He surged to his feet, Stiles still clutched in his arms. “There’s no way,” he continued, on the edge of hysteria, “that an _omega_ could kill him. He survived an alpha pack, a darach, hell, even the _Nogitsune_ , and all that before he had even graduated high school. He’s an accomplished Spark now – he fucking exorcises demons in his spare time. If you guys are going to lie –“

“You think I’m not devastated by this as well?” Scott cried. “He was my best friend, my brother in all but blood, but Peter, listen to me – he’s dead! You can’t feel a heartbeat, can you?”

“He’s not-“ Peter was cut off by Derek, who bodily tackled him, pinning him while Scott and Isaac retrieved Stiles’ body. “NO,” he roared, struggling furiously, “Derek, let me up! He’s not, he’s not, no, no, no…” Peter began to sob brokenly. “No, no, no, Derek, he can’t be dead. He can’t be… I can’t…”

Derek shifted his weight off of him and gathered the weeping man into his arms. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured into Peter’s hair. “Oh, Peter, I’m so, so sorry.”

 

* * *

 

After Stiles’ death, after the funeral where Peter stood like a statue over the casket, stoic and dry-eyed, after the burial where they lowered Stiles and several bouquets of flowers into the ground, the pack waited in terrible anticipation for Peter to go feral.

They all knew that Stiles had been Peter’s anchor, and Peter’s previous anchor, revenge, was not really an option in this case – the pack had already killed the omega after it had caught Stiles off-guard and fatally injured him. Peter wasn’t attached enough to the pack to use it as an anchor, and there was no one else in his life of much importance. None of them knew if there was even anything the werewolf _could_ safely use as an anchor.

When Isaac finally screwed up the courage to ask Peter, he replied, “Stiles.”

The pack was relieved – Peter using his memories of Stiles as an anchor was one of the safest situations they could have imagined. Barring unexpected amnesia, it wasn’t an anchor that could be destroyed and it seemed unlikely that Peter would spiral back into insanity if he was settled enough to use the memories of his and Stiles’ happy life together to calm himself. Satisfied with Peter’s stability and his progress in accepting Stiles’ death, the pack backed off, letting Peter have more room and time to himself.

It wasn’t really his fault that the pack had misunderstood, Peter mused to himself, weaving through the graves in the Beacon Hills cemetery. It was their fault, assuming that Stiles being dead was a done deal.

It wasn’t.

“Oh, Stiles,” Peter called out as he approached the polished marble gravestone. “I have some gifts for you, dear boy.”

“Peter?” A light flickered above the grave before it steadied and resolved itself into a hazy, translucent Stiles. “Peter!” The ghost smiled widely and did a happy dance, its arms and legs flailing widely. Peter smiled fondly at the familiar sight, and his constant grief became a little easier to bear for a moment.

"So," Stiles said, crossing his legs and floating down to "sit" on the grave. "What gifts did you bring?"

Peter smiled smugly. "Why, all of them, dear boy."

"What?" Stiles exclaimed, his eyes widening in surprise. "Are you serious?"

Peter reached into his bag. "Water from a desert," he said in answer, placing a small vial of water on a nearby headstone. "That one was easy enough, especially since we do live in California." He rummaged around in his bag for a moment before withdrawing a cardboard box. "Milk from a virgin breast," he continued, flipping open the lid to reveal another glass vial.

"How in the world did you get that?" Stiles asked curiously.

Peter shrugged. "There are a lot of strange people on the Internet," he explained, "and I have a lot of money. It wasn't too hard to acquire.

"Unlike," he continued, "the blood from a stone. But," he drew a third vial out of his bag, "I finally found a stone troll - there were rumors of an enclave of them out in Nevada that proved to be true. It took a few days to hack through the skin of one of them, but I finally managed to get some of their blood."

Stiles clapped his hands in excitement. "You got all of them! The water from the desert, the blood from out of a stone, and the milk from a fair maid's breast that a man never has known!" he said in a sing-song voice.

"Did you ever doubt me, darling?,” Peter said with a smirk. “I'm just impressed you managed to remember this resurrection ritual - it's not very well-known, is it? I'd never heard of it before, certainly."

"I ran across it once," said Stiles with a shrug. "It seemed interesting, and it was in the form of a song, so it just stuck in my head, you know?”

“Luckily for us,” Peter replied. “Anyway,” he continued, “what do I have to do with these ingredients, dear boy?”

Stiles grimaced. “You… well… I’m afraid you have to drink them.”

“Drink them?” Peter raised his eyebrows incredulously. “Interesting.”

“Yes, in the order they’re listed in the verse – water, blood, and then milk,” Stiles explained. “You drink them, and then you kiss me.”

“Well then,” Peter said. “Anything for you, darling.” With that, he reached for the vials and unstoppered all of them. He quaffed them one right after another – water, blood, and milk. He then tossed the glass vials to the side and they made a tinkling crunch as they shattered on the graves beneath Peter’s feet. He stepped towards Stiles, one arm outstretched, and Stiles floated into his embrace. Their lips touched, and as they kissed, Peter could feel Stiles’ body becoming increasingly corporeal. When Stiles’ feet finally hit the ground, he pulled away from Peter, although his lips were still as cold as ice.

“Thank you, Peter,” Stiles said, a strange, cold light in his eyes. “And I’m sorry for your loss. I actually liked the boy – one of my best hosts, I must admit.”

Before Peter’s eyes, Stiles’ body melted into the shadowy form of a fox with an ever-shifting number of tails. It grinned up at him triumphantly.

**_But I have my own form now_** , the Nogitsune said, **_thanks to his death and your love for him. I can’t be sorry for that._** It sauntered past Peter and began to make its way out of the graveyard.

**STOP** , Peter ordered.

The Nogitsune halted suddenly, like it was brought up short by a leash.

_**What is this?**_ it snarled, whirling to look back at Peter. **_What are you doing?_**

Peter smirked icily, with no hint of the warmth he had been displaying before. “I know more about resurrection rituals than the average person,” he said, “and I knew this was no such thing. Three liquids – one of birth, one of life, and one of death – an entire life cycle of a mortal creature. That’s very unnecessary for a resurrection, but exactly what you’d need for granting life to something without it - and there was only one spirit I could think of that was so adept at taking Stiles’ form. So then all it took was a little digging and I found your demon-raising ritual and –“ Peter opened his mouth and stuck two fingers under his tongue to pull out a fine silver necklace with a triskelion bangle, “how to modify it to make a demon- _binding_ ritual.”

_**Well**_ , the Nogitsune hissed furiously, its shadowy body contracting and reshaping itself back into a copy of Stiles, “you have bound me, but can you _control_ me, wolf?”

Peter shrugged. “Probably not,” he replied, fastening the silver necklace around his neck. “That wasn’t the goal of this.”

“Really?” the Nogitsune said incredulously. “What is the ‘goal of this’ then?”

“A trade,” Peter answered.

“For what?” the Nogitsune laughed. “For your darling little mate? It’s beyond impossible to plumb down into the depths of Death to fish out a soul that has long since passed from this Earth. It’s been, what, almost a year already?”

“Exactly a year and a day in one month,” Peter replied. “And as I said before, I know my resurrection rituals. The phase of the moon is important for werewolves, but for humans, the most auspicious time for resurrection is a year and a day after they died.”

“Fair enough,” said the Nogitsune. “But it still requires skill and power – you’re not going to be able to compel me to do it, and there’s very little I’d be willing to accept in a trade for that.”

“Your freedom.”

The Nogitsune scoffed. “Not good enough, wolf. The amount of freedom I’d gain by you snapping that silver chain is in no way equivalent to the debts I’d accrue by gathering enough power to grab your mate out of Death.”

“No,” Peter replied, “I mean absolute freedom. I will break the binding on you that exists at the Nemeton.”

The Nogitsune went deathly still. “You are not stupid enough,” it finally said, “not to realize what sorts of things I will do if I am completely free.”

“ _You_ should not be stupid enough,” Peter snarled, his icy composure breaking to reveal the beginnings of insanity underneath, “to underestimate what _I_ would do for Stiles Stilinski. The world can _burn_ for all I care,” he spat viciously. “As long as he and I are together.”

“The life of your mate for my complete freedom?” the Nogitsune confirmed with a smile.

“The life of my mate and our safety from you after you gain your freedom,” Peter corrected. “I don’t want you coming after us.”

The Nogitsune shrugged. “That’s reasonable. The life of your mate and your safety for my freedom.” It laughed suddenly, triumphantly. “Oh, I like you, Peter Hale. You _do_ know how to strike a bargain!” It began to laugh even harder. “The world for your love, then,” it said. “Deal?” It held out its hand for Peter to shake.

Peter grasped the offered hand, his eyes hard and his smile knife-sharp. “Deal.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Mala](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Malapropian/pseuds/Malapropian) for beta'ing this! They're awesome - go check out their stuff!
> 
> I have a [tumblr](http://www.flightofmorning.tumblr.com/)! You should come say hi!


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